Rude Awakening
by Schattengestalt
Summary: For once, Sherlock wants to sleep. Preferably for a whole day. But as it is with most plans, they don't work out as they should and Sherlock is jolted out of his sleep by a terrified John. Johnlock.


**Author Notes** : This story is about trans*Sherlock, so if this isn't your cup of tea, don't read it!

 **Appreciation:** Thanks to **Caycen** for taking the time to tell me how to best improve this story. You will notice, that I headed your advice, dear. :)

 **Trigger Warning:** Body dysphoria!

 **Rude Awakening**

"Sherlock!"

The urgent voice penetrated his sleep addled senses and Sherlock groaned in reaction as he buried his face in the pillow. They had been chasing after an organized human smuggler ring for three weeks straight and even Sherlock had to admit that he was tired. No, not just tired... tiredness was easy to ignore. But this... he was exhausted. After pushing his body to its limits - and sometimes beyond - Sherlock only wanted to sleep. Preferably for a couple of days and John was...

"Sherlock, wake up!"

Sherlock drew the covers closer around his body, when a hand grabbed his shoulder and shook him lightly. No matter what had happened, it couldn't be so urgent that Sherlock needed to get up. There weren't any experiments in the flat, which needed his supervision and Sherlock wouldn't even leave his bed for a ten right now.

"Tired, John. Want to sleep." His mumbled words did nothing to stop John's attempts at getting his attention and with a sigh, Sherlock finally forced his eyes open and turned onto his back. He was greeted by morning light and the worried face of his friend, who was propped up on his elbow and frowned down at him. Really, Sherlock had imagined their first morning in bed together to go differently. For one thing, he had never pictured John with a deep frown line between his eyebrows as he regarded Sherlock with the look, he reserved for especially complicated fractures.

"Did I snore?" Not that Sherlock believed that John would have woken him, if he did, but his mind wasn't able to come up with another explanation for the rude awakening.

"No, Sherlock... you are... bleeding." Sherlock raised an eyebrow at that. "Don't be ridiculous, John. You checked me for injuries yourself, before we went to bed. I only got a few scratches and bruises, nothing to worry about. May I go back to sleep now?"

John's hand on his shoulder prevented Sherlock from turning onto his side and he almost screamed in frustration. His whole body was aching from exhaustion and he didn't have the patience to deal with John's pointless worries. If he had known that John would be like that, Sherlock would have never invited him into his bed in the first place. All these brief, stolen kisses during their latest case be damned, if it meant that Sherlock wasn't allowed to sleep more than six hours in a row. They should have slept in separate rooms, after such an exhausting case, instead of falling into bed together. Even as he thought this, Sherlock knew that he was to blame for their sleeping arrangements. After all, he hadn't let go of John's hand on their way home. He had placed kisses on every part of John's face, he could reach, while they had stumbled through the flat and into his bedroom, where they had crashed after stripping down to their pants.

Still, John had been the one, who had initiated their first kiss, after Sherlock had been pushed through an open window and - thankfully - landed in the swimming pool of the main suspect. That had been one week into the case. They hadn't had the time to talk about the change of their relationship, but it had seemed like a logical step to sleep together after the case had been solved and now...

"Sherlock! Look!" John's voice was shaking and it was only thanks to this disturbing discovery that Sherlock followed his friend's orders and looked at the spot on the sheet, John pointed at. It was a white sheet. Or rather, it had been a white sheet. It was now colored by a red - partly wet, partly dried- stain. Blood. Unmistakable.

Sherlock froze. His mind balked at the implications, although there was only one possible explanation for the blood on the sheets. One explanation that sent a wave of nausea through Sherlock's body and made him want to retch. It had been years - more than a decade - since he had had to endure _this_ and it shouldn't have happened in the first place. There was really no reason why... Oh yes, he was so stupid! The appointment, he had forgotten it and now... he had to endure the consequences of his oversight. Bracing himself, Sherlock rubbed his legs together and only sighed in defeat, when they felt sticky, where his thighs met. He didn't even need to lift the covers and check his pants for a final proof.

"We have to go to Bart's. They need to check you thoroughly. I was too tired, last night, maybe I missed something and... you could have internal bleeding and..."

"John!" Sherlock interrupted the worried babbling of his friend sharply. "I don't need medical attention. I'm menstruating," Sherlock finished in a rush, before John got the chance to interrupt him or... before his nerves got the better of him. This most definitely hadn't been how he had imagined to tell John that he was...

"That's really not the time for jokes!"

An annoyed sigh fell from Sherlock's lips. It was probably of advantage just how exhausted he was. Otherwise, he would be a quivering bundle of nerves at the prospect of revealing his best hidden secret to John. As it was, Sherlock was too drained to muster the energy necessary to panic... or to consider his next words. "I'm not joking, John. I'm menstruating. I forgot to get my hormones, alright?"

Silence.

Sherlock glanced at the ceiling and listened to his friend's strained breathing next to him. John was a doctor, he would figure out what Sherlock's words implied and then... John would make a decision. His heart jumped nervously in its ribcage - obviously not as tired as the rest of him - as Sherlock waited for John's reaction. At least, he didn't have to wait for long.

"Blimey!" The quiet curse echoed overly loud through the bedroom and Sherlock closed his eyes in defeat, when John scrambled out of the bed. He listened to his friend's steps as John moved through the living-room and climbed up the stairs to his own bedroom. That was it, then.

Sherlock clenched the covers in his hands and bit down on his lower lip as pressure built behind his closed eyelids. He wouldn't cry. He completely refused to cry. He hadn't cried since his grandfather had told Sherlock that he was a freak of nature and that his mother should have aborted him, at his eighteenth birthday. Really, he should be used to such reactions by now. Except for Mycroft and his parents, no other family member had ever understood that he wasn't - and had never been - _Aurora,_ but that he had always been Sherlock - since he had been old enough to understand the concept of genders. His grandparents had refused to see him. His cousins had sent him rude letters, filled to the last word with insults. His aunt and uncle had suggested electric shock therapy to his parents and... Sherlock was only glad that he hadn't had any friends at that time or he would have lost them as well. Just like he had lost most of the few friends he had made in his adult years, when they had found out about... _him_. Not to mention, his former lovers, which hadn't understood or accepted his gender identity. Foolish to believe that John would be different.

A strangled, bitter laugh escaped past Sherlock's lips and he pressed his eyes shut against the onslaught of tears as all his hopes crumpled to dust at the feet's of his battered heart. At least, John hadn't been as cruel as most of his former lovers. He had just left, instead of attacking and insulting Sherlock for what he was. Maybe, that meant that their friendship still had a chance of surviving the next few days, if they just ignored what had happened.

As if on cue, the muscles of his abdomen contracted almost violently and Sherlock curled into himself, when the resulting pain made him want to scream in agony. He couldn't remember that it had ever been this bad, in his teenage years, but then, the human mind was very adept at forgetting pain. Still, no matter what else he had forgotten, Sherlock still remembered that the pain hadn't been the reason as to why he hadn't wanted to endure his menstrual period anymore. No, there had been other reasons for it and Sherlock could still recall how he had tried to explain them to his endocrinologist, more than a decade ago.

 _"Mr. Holmes, one of my colleagues have overseen your hormone replacement therapy for the last six years and though I'm honored that you have chosen me as your new doctor, I must ask why you deemed it necessary to change doctors, at all?"_

 _Sherlock met the professional smile of the woman - mid thirty, lesbian, in a committed relationship for five years, fan of_ Queen _\- with a smile of his own. Mycroft had recommended Doctor Sternbach to him - which meant she was on his brother's payroll - and usually that would have kept Sherlock away from her, but he was desperate. Desperate enough to be on his best behavior around the doctor, because he didn't know what he would do if he came back empty handed this time as well. "Your colleague, Doctor Taylor, only ever prescribed a very low dose of testosterone to me. He appeared to be of the opinion that it didn't matter how long it would take for my appearance to... change."_

 _Doctor Sternbach didn't make any notes, instead she just cocked her head at Sherlock and spoke calmly: "Since you came to me, I assume that you don't agree with him."_

 _Sherlock managed to refrain from rolling his eyes and merely shrugged. "I'm content with how my voice sounds, how my muscle size has increased and that I now have to shave every morning, but... I don't want to get my menstruations anymore. They are... annoying." It was the understatement of the century, but Sherlock didn't want to tell his doctor how his skin crawled every month, when he noticed the first stains in his pants. He wasn't keen on discussing with her how he felt betrayed by his body, when it performed the useless task of shedding the endometrium It was as if his own body was laughing at him by throwing into his face that it was just waiting for the chance to carry children. Not to mention how humiliating it felt to Sherlock to buy tampons with the knowledge that they weren't for a girlfriend - like the cashier always suspected - but for himself. It was... wrong. Sherlock didn't need to have his menstruations. He was a man, but... he didn't feel like one, when he had to set a timer on his watch to remind him to change his tampon, while he was working at the lab and... Sherlock wasn't sure how much longer he could stand it._

 _Doctor Sternbach glanced at a page on Sherlock's medical file and frowned slightly. "As far as I see, it's still possible to increase your dose of testosterone, my colleague was obviously very... careful. Of course," She added sternly, when Sherlock relaxed a little in his seat. "We will have to run a few tests to ascertain which levels of testosterone are safe for you to take and how much will be necessary to stop your menstruations from occurring. It will take some time, but if we work together, we should reach a satisfying result."_

 _Sherlock smiled, a real smile this time, as he nodded at his new doctor. Mycroft had been right - as much as it hurt Sherlock to admit it - Doctor Sternbach was competent. She knew what she was doing and she hadn't once asked Sherlock why he didn't just get his uterus removed, if he wanted his menstruations to stop._

 _"Thank you," was all Sherlock managed to say and Doctor Sternbach nodded at him in return. "You're welcome, Mr. Holmes."_

Sherlock only had had to endure two more cycles - complete with menstruations - after his first appointment with Doctor Sternbach, before the newly adjusted dosage of testosterone had taken effect. It had been heavenly. Sherlock hadn't needed to monitor his body for signs of its monthly betrayal anymore. He had walked by the aisle with sanitary products for women, without sparing the tampons a second glance. It had been freeing, but now... He would have to venture out to Tesco to buy...

Sherlock grimaced as he drew his legs up to his chest - effectively curling up in a fetal position - and his pants stuck to his crotch. He didn't mind bodily fluids and he certainly wasn't disgusted by blood - even when he was covered in it himself - but this was... disgusting. Not in the same way that parasites were disgusting to some people, but more like people would be disgust with themselves if they fell into the waste container of a butcher. The sticky reminder of the person, he had never been was enough to make Sherlock shudder in revulsion.

Of course, he could get up and take a shower, but then... he would also have to line his pants with toilet paper - or something else absorbent - before he had to go out and buy tampons. And Sherlock couldn't even use the Tesco close to Baker Street. The cashiers knew who he was and they were aware that Mrs. Hudson didn't need tampons anymore, while it was public knowledge at the same time that Sherlock didn't have a girlfriend. Therefore, he would need to get a cab - Sherlock refused to even think of riding the Tube - to another supermarket, find the aisle with the sanitary products for women and... endure a lecture from Mycroft, when he got back to Baker Street.

A groan escaped Sherlock's lips as he hid his face in the pillow. His brother would never let him forget that Sherlock missed his appointment with Doctor Sternbach. If Sherlock was especially unlucky, Mycroft would insist of reminding him personally of all his appointments in the future.

At least, Sherlock thought with a bitter smile Mycroft wouldn't have to worry about Sherlock getting himself pregnant this time. His brother had always been more worried about this possibility - after he deduced that Sherlock was gay - than Sherlock himself had been. Only after Sherlock had gotten his _tubes tied_ \- so to speak - Mycroft had ceased to monitor Sherlock's every step. Not that Sherlock had decided to get sterilized because of his brother annoying over protectiveness, but rather because he had come to the same conclusion as Mycroft had: That Sherlock wouldn't be able to cope with a pregnancy - not even if he terminated it in a matter of weeks.

What would John think of all the decisions, he had made in regards to his body, Sherlock wondered, even as his mind grew foggy with exhaustion. Would his friend tell him that he wasn't a _real_ man, because he hadn't even gotten his uterus removed? Or would he accuse Sherlock of leading him on, because he hadn't told John that he was transgender after they had kissed for the first time? The last thought was more unsettling than the first one and if the last few days hadn't drained him of all his energy, Sherlock would have spend hours analyzing every possible thought that might go through John's mind this very second. As it was, Sherlock merely managed a sad smile, before he slipped into a fitful rest, hunted by dreams about tampons and visits to the gynecologist.

OOO

"Sherlock!" Gentle fingers ran through his messy curls and Sherlock sighed contently as he came slowly awake. There was still a lingering exhaustion in his body, but his mind didn't ache with every thought anymore and Sherlock counted that a success, when he blinked his eyes open. The content feeling only lasted, until his eyes fell on John, who sat on the edge of the mattress, and the memories of the their last encounter came back to him.

"What do you want?" Sherlock was relieved, when his voice came out steady and cold, instead of betraying the whirlwind of emotions that raced through his mind as he met John's kind and worried gaze. Worried... Yes, of course John was worried. He was a doctor after all and Sherlock knew how serious his friend took his profession. John's conscience had probably forced him to check on Sherlock to make sure that he was alright. Maybe, he had even used the time to call Mycroft and ask for Sherlock's medical records.

Sherlock's stomach churned at the possibility that John was now private to every step of his physical transition. That he had learned about years of body dysphoria, fights with professionals and surgeries from indifferent pieces of paper. That John had been allowed to judge Sherlock's decisions, without getting to ask for the reasons behind them.

"You have slept for four hours straight, I decided to check on you, when it didn't appear like you would wake anytime soon." John's voice was gentle and honest, there was no lie in his words that Sherlock was able to detect. Still, that didn't make the situation any less complicated to handle. Sherlock could deduce from John's stance that he was still tired, but wide awake at the same time. The lines on John's forehead were deeper than usual, which was an indicator for worry, but... Sherlock couldn't read John's mind. He didn't know what his friend was thinking - if they were in fact still friends - and it was... nerve wracking.

"I'm fine," Sherlock murmured and didn't miss how John's left eyebrow arched up at that.

"Fine? Is that why you slept in a fetal position, with your hands pressed on your abdomen and a pained expression your face?"

Sherlock bristled at the question and sat up abruptly - dislodging John's fingers from his curls in the process - and grimaced when the sudden movement pushed another wave of warm wetness into his pants. One more thing about menstruations that he hated: He had to catalogue exactly how much he exercised his body to prevent any embarrassing... _leaks_.

"Is that your way of reminding me that I made a mess of the sheets? If you talk to your girlfriends like this, it's no wonder that your relationships don't last for longer than a few months." Sherlock knew that he was probably a little unfair, but he didn't want to give John the chance to attack him - no matter how unlikely his heart believed this to happen.

"It's my way of asking if you are alright, you berk," John muttered and somehow even managed to smile tightly at Sherlock. "After all, you gave me a real scare this morning."

Sherlock frowned at John's words. "Is this your less than subtle way to make me feel guilty about what happened this morning?" Because if it was, John could bugger off right away. Sherlock certainly didn't enjoy his menstruations and berated himself for forgetting his appointment with Doctor Sternbach over the case, but he wasn't going to apologize for his bodily functions. He would never apologize for his body to anyone.

"God, Sherlock. No, of course not!" John ran his fingers through his hair - longer than usual, forgot to get a haircut - and shook his head with a sigh. "I'm just... I don't know how to approach... _this._ " John gestured to the soiled sheets and the light stain that graced the covers as well, by now.

All the fight left Sherlock in an instant and he sighed quietly as he regarded John with tired eyes. His friend was uncomfortable, more than uncomfortable as was obvious by his hunched shoulders and the insecurity in his eyes. Sherlock couldn't really blame him for feeling this way. After all, John hadn't signed up for this, had he? His friend hadn't known that Sherlock was transgender and to be confronted with it in such a way had to be a shock. And yet, John was still here. He was here with Sherlock to ascertain that he was fine and that... it had to count for something. Even if they never got back to kissing - Sherlock's heart clenched painfully at that thought - at least there was a real chance that their friendship would survive the revelations of this day.

"I didn't mean for this to happen," Sherlock admitted quietly and stared down at his lap. He still wasn't apologizing for his bodily functions, but it was true that he hadn't wanted to get his menstruation... ever again. Besides, John was making an effort, so the least Sherlock could do, was to meet him halfway. To his utter amazement though, John merely shook his head with a tired smile. "I know that and... I'm sorry that I stormed away like Moriarty was after me this morning. I... I was tired and then I woke up and... there was blood and I thought you were hurt and then..."

"You were angry," Sherlock concluded, because it was the truth. John had been furious when he had left the bedroom earlier.

"Yes, I was." John's voice was a shameful whisper and Sherlock looked up just in time to notice the embarrassed blush that covered his friend's cheeks. "I was angry that you scared me like this and that it wouldn't have happened if you had remembered to take your hormones, but then - when I was at Tesco's - I realised how draining the case had been for both of us and... that you certainly hadn't meant to forget to take them and... that you probably felt worse about it than I did." At that Sherlock looked up to meet John's gaze directly and he was momentarily taken aback by the understanding he saw mirrored in his friend's eyes. It was... it seemed like John felt with him.

Sherlock's mind scrambled to come up with some sort of reply, even as he tried to analyze John's feeling more deeply at the same time. What came out in the end was: "Tesco's? What did you need from Tesco's?"

A low, self-conscious chuckle escaped past John's lips. "You know, the usual: Bread, milk, tea, vegetables, eggs, meat, tampons, sanitary towels, chocolates and..."

"You bought tampons and sanitary towels?!" Sherlock gaped at his friend, who blushed even more furiously, but held his gaze nonetheless as he gave a tiny nod. "Well, I didn't know what you preferred, so I just got both."

That was... kind. Kind and thoughtful and Sherlock didn't really know what to do with the knowledge that John had spared him the trip to Tesco's and gotten him what he needed, without a question asked. The only other people that had done such things for him, had been his parents and Mycroft. Sherlock swallowed hard as he quenched the hope that flickered back to life in his chest, as his heart tried to convince him that John's kindness hadn't sprung from mere friendly feelings or even obligations as a doctor. It was stupid to hope for the impossible... even when it came to John.

Minutes ticked by in silence, until John coughed quietly. "So, you... Well, I know that it's probably rude to ask." Sherlock tensed defensively. Here, they came. The usual, invasive question that people felt they were entitled to ask, after they found out that he was transgender. "How do you supply your testosterone? I have never found any patches or syringes in the bathroom - or anywhere in the flat - and I have wondered for quite some time... What?"

Sherlock didn't know what his face was doing, but judging by John's worried stare, his facial expression must have resembled a bewildered grimace as the words of his friend sunk into his head. It sounded like... But now, it couldn't be possible that John had figured out that Sherlock was transgender and had never mentioned it, in the whole year they had lived together. People were much too curious to keep their curiosity in check about such things and John... was an expert at keeping quiet about private matters. Still, it was almost too good to be truth, because if John had known all along, then...

"You knew before _this_ ," Sherlock gestured to the soiled sheets. "That I'm transgender?"

"Yes," John replied carefully as if he was speaking with an especially slow child. "If you hadn't wanted me to know, you probably shouldn't have used the toilet, while I was showering, the first week, we moved in together."

Sherlock blinked. He couldn't remember that incident, but that didn't mean that John wasn't telling the truth. Sherlock had often enough re-emerged from his Mind Palace to find himself somewhere, he hadn't consciously walked to. His bodily needs must have overtaken his mind and carried him into the bathroom, without him taking notice of it. Still...

"You never mentioned that."

John shrugged, a sheepish smile around the corner of his lips. "You didn't either and I assumed that you didn't want to discuss it, which was well within your rights. Besides... I had just gotten to know you and that... was just another part of you."

"It didn't bother you." Sherlock couldn't keep the surprise out of his voice and John's expression clouded momentarily, before he shook his head - frown lines on his forehead. "No, why should it? I was bothered by the body parts in the fridge, but why should I ever... You didn't know that I know about you!"

John's eyes were as wide as saucers as he gaped at him and Sherlock felt heat rose in his cheeks as he nodded slowly. It was more than embarrassing that he hadn't deduced that John already knew that he was transgender, but then... John hadn't given him a clue. He hadn't treated Sherlock any differently than in the beginning. Instead, their friendship had grown over the weeks and months into something bigger and... John and known all this time! Sherlock's heart pounded with newly found hope as he regarded his friend with barely hidden amazement.

John for his part wore an expression of equally parts shock and fondness, as he reached out with trembling fingers to stroke Sherlock's cheek. "God, you really didn't know and you thought... I'm so sorry, Sherlock. I should have let you know that it was fine. More than fine and that I... what must you have thought, when I stormed away from you this morning?! Christ, I'm so sorry."

"It's fine, John." Sherlock covered the hand on his cheek with his own and smiled at his friend. "We were both operating under false assumptions and... you will keep sleeping, here?" Sherlock couldn't keep the question mark out of his voice, but his last doubts were dispelled, when John leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. "Of course, if you want to have me here, I'll even lie down with you right away. After you had a long and relaxing bath, that's it."

"A bath?" John nodded. "Yes, I have a ran you one, already. The sanitary products are on the sink as well. You just relax for some time and I'll change the sheets and prepare something for lunch and then, we will just go back to sleep, alright?"

Sherlock could merely nod his agreement as he marveled at the miracle that was John Watson, once more. His friend didn't remark on his blood smeared thighs, when Sherlock got out of bed, merely ushered him into the bathroom and Sherlock allowed one of his rare smiles to lit up his face as he took in the pack of tampons on the sink and the inviting looking bath tub. The day had definitely made a turn towards the better, since his rude awakening this morning.

OOO

Taking a bath had been a great idea. Sherlock smiled to himself and made a mental note to thank John for his thoughtfulness later as he leaned back in the tube, until he was covered from toes to neck in warm water and foam. He had completely forgotten how relaxing a long, hot bath could be... or maybe he had ignored the knowledge.

Sherlock frowned slightly as blew foam from his fingers. He hadn't bathed in years - too much trouble to fill the tube if a quick shower had the same effect - but there had been a time, when he had frequented the bathtub regularly - at least once every month. A time, when he had been forced to endure the betrayal of his body every month and soaking an hour in hot water had been the only way for him to relax. Not only had it stopped his muscles from cramping, a bath also had the effect of washing away all the traces of blood from his body.

Not that Sherlock minded blood - or had ever found it gross in anyway - but it felt wrong to have it clinging to his thighs and genitals. It felt... disgusting. As if he was... No, he shouldn't go down this line of thought.

Sherlock shook his head at himself. John would be crestfallen if he knew that Sherlock had taken the time while bathing to focus on the wrongness of it all. Of course, it was wrong for him to menstruate, but still... it would be over soon enough. He could endure a few days of mild discomfort, especially after what he had learned today. Sherlock was glad that no one was there to see the mad grin that turned his lips upwards as he recalled his conversation with John. His friend had known, all along - from the very beginning - that he was transgender. This and how John had handled the knowledge didn't only speak for him as a decent human being - _his_ John was amazing - but it also showed that his friend had agreed to the change in their relationships with seeing eyes. No need to fear that he would run away screaming if he saw Sherlock naked - a feat one of his former, potential lovers had accomplished. Of course, it was still entirely possible that their relationship wouldn't work out and... No, he wouldn't go down this path either. He had endured enough stress for one day, he didn't need to add more to his plate, when he was still in the process of relaxing.

Blue eyes closed against the twilight in the bathroom as he went through the sheets of music in the Composing Wing of his Mind Palace. The flowing notes in his head and the warm water kept him in a comfortable space between wakefulness and sleep, until there was a knock on the door.

"Sherlock?" Blue eyes fluttered open at the well known voice and their owner turned to smile at the closed door. "Everything alright? You have been in there for quite some time."

Sherlock blinked and then noticed that the water was only lukewarm anymore. He had obviously spent the better part of an hour in the bathtub. It would be wiser to leave now, although...

For a second, Sherlock entertained the thought of adding more hot water to his bath and telling John to join him... but then he decided against it with a small sigh. It wasn't that he didn't feel prepared to share such an intimate moment with his friend, but... the time wasn't right. Sherlock hadn't taken a bath for his enjoyment, but because he had suffered from cramps. There was no chance that his mind wouldn't associate a shared bath with John with his menstruation now and this... just wasn't on.

"Sherlock?!"

"I'm fine," he spoke loudly to the closed door and then got up - without splashing too much water onto the tiles - and grabbed for the shower to rinse of the foam, while opening the plug hole with his right foot at the same time. "I will be out soon."

"Fine, I'll prepare something for us to eat, then... Don't backtalk, you will eat something!" Sherlock rolled his eyes at the door, even as his lips turned upwards at the remainder of how much John cared.

"And Sherlock." Hesitance in his voice, but still determined to say what John believed to be important, Sherlock noted as he climbed out of the bathtub and grabbed for a towel. "Don't forget... I mean, it would be bad if... Oh for Christ's... if you used a tampon while bathing, don't forget to take it out!" Sherlock could practically see John's blush through the closed door as he chuckled quietly to himself. If it hadn't been John and if Sherlock hadn't forgotten about the tampon until this very moment, the reminder would have been unwelcome. As it was, it felt rather touching that John remembered such minor annoyances for Sherlock.

"Thanks John," Sherlock called back and then faced the opened pack of tampons with a milder expression than before. The situation was far from being perfect, but with John at his side it should be endurable... even if he would be forced to eat once in while.

OOO

"An intramuscular injection, every twelve weeks," Sherlock murmured as he snuggled up to John under the covers. He was relaxed from the long bath and sleepy after he had consumed a portion of scrambled eggs with fried bacon on John's insistence.

"Every twelve weeks?" Tender fingers carded through his curls and Sherlock sighed in contentment as he breathed a kiss on John's collarbone. "Yes, it's a new treatment. They use the testosterone ester TU, instead of TE. The testosterone levels rise more steadily and there are no such side effects like mood swings, because the levels don't drop as suddenly at the end of the cycle as they did with the three-weekly injections of TE." Truthfully, Sherlock was rather glad for this invention, because he had needed a daily injection, before the new treatment had been available. The side effects of the intramuscular injection had been too annoying for his liking and gels and patches weren't for him.

"So, you get these injections from your endocrinologist, but you forgot your appointment over the last case and the hormone levels sunk low enough to... confuse your body." Sherlock smiled at John's careful phrasing. His skin still itched, when he thought of using tampons for the next few days... and especially why he had to use them, but the feeling had marginally improved, since he knew that John would still be with him at the end of this ordeal.

"It will be fine," Sherlock whispered to himself and to John. "I have already gotten a new appointment with Doctor Sternbach in a couple of days."

"Of course, it will be fine." John's lips found his in a deep and gentle kiss. "As long as we are together, everything will be fine."

And that was so sappy and romantic, that Sherlock would have retched at it, if anyone except for John had made this announcement. As it was, Sherlock merely huffed a quiet laugh and pressed a peck to John's lips, before he closed his eyes to get some much needed sleep. This time, he was certain that he wouldn't endure any nightmares, as Sherlock was secure in the knowledge that John would still be there when he woke up. Tomorrow and every following day.


End file.
